


Just Like it Should Be

by closetsherlockian



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Retirementlock, This is how it should be, take note Mofftiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:53:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1233973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetsherlockian/pseuds/closetsherlockian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fluffy retirementlock fic written just to make me feel better. John discovers that even after all these years Sherlock could still surprise him with the extent of his love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like it Should Be

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd and I'm not really sure what it's like in Sussex but I hope my description is appropriate.

“Sherlock, what’s this?”  
  
The detective didn’t bother to look up from his typical thinking pose. “It’s a letter. Don’t be so obvious.”  
  
John gritted his teeth. “Since when did you get a mortgage for a property in Sussex? _Forty bloody years ago_.”  
  
Sherlock jumped up from the sofa and snatched the letter from John’s hands. “This is addressed to me, John, not you. How …why are you going through my personal things? Can’t I have any privacy?”  
  
John laughed in response. Over their thirty year partnership Sherlock has never had any notion of privacy, or personal space. The fact that he thought he had the right to be upset when John opened his mail was laughable.  
  
“I’ve been opening mail addressed to you for decades, Sherlock. The bills would never get paid if I didn't I will remind you that they all come addressed to you, not me. And you haven’t answered my question. Why do you have a mortgage on another house?”  
  
John stared at Sherlock straight in the eyes. Both men were older (yet no wiser) and their life story was painted on both their bodies. The smile lines John put on Sherlock’s face, the small scar on his cheek from the time he was cut by a thief (he still winced at the beating Sherlock gave the man in return - no one placed a finger on John and got away with it) and the ever growing spread of grey hairs on both their heads.  
  
“I can explain, John. Please don’t be angry with me” Sherlock pleaded. John could always, always tell when Sherlock was being sincere rather than manipulative. His soft eyes and the pleading tone in his voice was a dead give away.  
  
John placed his hand on Sherlock’s cheek and stroked it with his thumb. “I’m not angry, Sherlock. Just confused. I didn’t think there were any secrets between us.”  
  
“It was supposed to be a surprise, John. I…had my reasons” Sherlock replied.  
  
“The date you got it, Sherlock. It was three days after we met. You remember? After I shot that cabbie?”  
  
Sherlock smiled at the memory. “You mean the day you became the most important person in my world,” he thought to himself.  
  
“Our line of work is dangerous, John. I can’t predict the future and every time we leave 221b I never know what might happen to either of us. I had to make sure you would be taken care of if I was…to leave this world prematurely.”  
  
John gasped and grabbed Sherlock’s hands. He always grinned when he saw their matching wedding bands next to each other. Knowing he was Sherlock’s and Sherlock was his, and ensuring the whole world knew it, made him happier than he could ever say.  
  
“I made sure there was enough money from my inheritance to support you for the rest of your days. I wanted to pay off the cottage over time because every letter from the bank reminded me I had so much to live for, and such a priceless thing to protect. I ensured _Mycroft_ (he spat the word with  distain \- calling on his older brother for a favour pained him, even all these years later) was aware of my wishes. There has been always money aside to pay it off…in case…well…”  
  
John pulled Sherlock’s face to his own and kissed him. He felt his heart rate climb and the butterflies appear in his stomach. All these years later Sherlock still drove him wild.  
  
“You…I…Sherlock, I don’t know what to say” John whispered, their foreheads pressed together.  
  
“Why so soon? Even in our thirties we didn’t have enough cop on to see what is in front of our faces. Surely it would’ve waited?”  
  
It had taken the men far, far too long. Two years after Sherlock’s return and one failed marriage later, John could finally see what he wanted and needed was right in front of his eyes. Most laughed when they were married shortly after, but they had wasted too much time.  
  
Sherlock kissed John like a young man in his twenties. “I knew, John. That day. I knew you were the most important person in my existence. I had to protect you. I knew from that moment I could never live without you. Even if things…didn’t turn out the way I planned you still would've gotten everything. Even if we went our separate ways and didn’t see each other (the thought made Sherlock’s heart clench in his chest). The thought of you growing old with another person was by no means pleasant, but at least you would be taken care of. Anyone else who benefited would be…lucky.”  
  
“Oh, Sherlock. You are the most amazing person I have ever met and I love you so much.”  
  
Sherlock wrapped his long arms around his husband and pulled him close. “My John. You would always be my John and I love you, more than anything else. I want to spend every last second of my existence with you and only you”  
  
“Perhaps it’s time, Sherlock. We’re not getting any younger” John whispered.  
  
Sherlock kissed his head and nuzzled into his hair. “I think so, too.”

Both men knew it was time to put the Work aside. Sherlock never thought this day would come. Then again, he never thought he would find something more important.

* * *

The taxi pulled up outside the property in Sussex and it was beautiful. The distant sound of waves. The smell of the flowers covering the garden. The smell of fresh air. The cottage was single story and obviously built to last, much like Sherlock and John’s marriage. Sherlock held John’s hand in his own as they walked up the long driveway.  
  
Sherlock’s hands were slightly shaking as he fumbled with the keys. What if John didn’t like it? Unfortunately, with age his nerves occasionally got the better of them.  
  
That fear was unfounded, obviously.  
  
Sherlock had called ahead and made sure their housekeeper lit a fire in the large sitting room off to the right. There was an air to the house that just felt like home. Sherlock made sure it was maintained and kept in working order regardless of the cost. He let John wander through their new home and smiled at the look of pure joy on his face. John gasped when he walked into the bedroom (the only bedroom) and ran his hand over the large four poster bed. 221b was small, somewhat dated and dark. This house was perfect.  
  
“Sherlock…I love it. It’s perfect. When can we move in?”  
  
Before Sherlock could respond there was a loud honk of a truck’s horn.  
  
“Today. There’s no need to return to London. Everything has been taken care of.”  
  
John felt tears sting in his eyes. He had never loved Sherlock Holmes more in his entire life. He knows they would both live out the rest of their days together. Just like it should be.


End file.
